Binds That Tie
by stubadingdong
Summary: If T'Pol had been tied with Trip, not Archer. Spoilers for "Shadows of P'Jem"


Title: Binds That Tie  
  
Author: stubadingdong ([1]misanthropistx@yahoo.com)  
  
Rating: PG-ish  
  
Series: ENT  
  
Code: T/T- Romance/Angst  
  
Summary: If T'Pol had been tied up to Trip instead of Archer. Contains spoilers for Shadows of P'Jem.  
  
Disclaimer: See that peasant pushing the cart full of horse shit along the perimeter of the Kingdom? That's me. I own nothing. I'm borrowing the characters and even the plot this time. I'm just taking some...creative license...and moving stuff around a bit. If I were the King, this is how that story would have happened.  
  
Notes: I only have the attention span to rewrite the bondage scene. I have no ambition or intention of continuing this piece. I'll apologize in advance if it does not satisfy my readers. I'm just happy to have readers in the first place.  
  
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They had been captured by a rebel band of Coridan natives. When they left on this mission of peace, the Coridan leaders had mentioned nothing of any kind of war, battle, skirmish or any rebels thereof. Yet here they were, tied up to each other in some freezing, dark hole somewhere on an unfamiliar planet.  
  
Commander Trip Tucker could feel the Vulcan science officer shivering behind him. He kind of felt bad for her. Kind of. Maybe this will make her rethink uniform options. At least T'Pol was getting some of his body heat, and that should suffice for now. The rebels had tied them together at the waist, and individually at the ankles, knees and wrists. Trip had been trying unsuccessfully to untie his hands with his teeth. The knots were too complex and tight and weren't budging. He could feel T'Pol wiggling and presumed she was working at her own bonds.  
  
"I think I'm gonna need your hands t'undo my knots, T'Pol," he suggested. "And I can undo yours."  
  
T'Pol stilled behind him. "That would be easier if we were not back to back, Commander."  
  
Trip sighed. "Then I guess we'll hafta get front to front, won't we?"  
  
Though he couldn't see it, he was pretty sure she was frowning at this suggestion. If this had been a training procedure, he probably would have laughed. But this was the real deal and he didn't feel very jovial.  
  
"On the count of three, we'll get t'our feet. Lean against me an' use me as leverage up," he instructed. "I'll do the same over here." He waited for her acknowledgement and counted to three. They rose together on shaky, unbalanced legs. They toppled over only once, with Trip cursing the whole time. They managed to get vertical on the second attempt.  
  
They stood there panting, out of breath from their exertion. Turning around to face each other wasn't going to be much easier. The rebels had tied them together quite tightly.  
  
After waiting a few minutes to catch their breath, Trip addressed the issue at hand. "You ready to turn around, T'Pol?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," she replied curtly.  
  
Trip was aware of the circumstances that brought T'Pol down here with him. The captain had wanted her to have one last away mission before being transferred. Archer hadn't said much about the transfer, but it still boiled Trip's blood. He knew enough to know that the damn Vulcan High Command placed some sort of misdirected blame on T'Pol for what happened at the P'Jem monastery. He couldn't really tell how she was handling it, other than being quiet and not picking any fights with him. Which was enough to worry him, just a bit.  
  
"You okay back there?" Trip asked.  
  
"I'm fine, Commander. Let's just get this over with," she replied. T'Pol began to wiggle and squirm her way around Commander Tucker. He tried to comply and turn his hips to allow her more wiggle room, but that band around their waists was constricting. He thought it best to just let her do the moving. He'd stand still. Trip did lift his arms up over his head to provide her with a bit more space to maneuver.  
  
Eventually, she made one final twist with her hips and was face to face with the Chief Engineer. Her hands rested against his chest. She was crushed up against him. He offered her a small, sheepish smile and lowered his arms. His arms overlapped hers, so his hands more or less rested against her chest. T'Pol did not meet his eyes. He furrowed his brow in concern.  
  
"Let's get started on these knots, shall we?" Trip said, trying to lighten this gloom. He felt the Vulcan shiver against the cold. He quickly worked at the knots on her wrists, as she worked at his. "You know, Cap'n tells me you're bein' transferred in a couple days."  
  
"Yes," T'Pol said. She offered no more information.  
  
"Guess the High Command is holdin' you solely responsible for what happened with the Andorians. Pretty shitty if you ask me," he offered.  
  
"I am responsible," she said firmly. She still would not look him in the eye. This made him angry. She was bowing down to this.  
  
"You're not anymore responsible for that crap the Vulcans were doin' than me or the Cap'n! How can you just let them do that?" he demanded.  
  
T'Pol stopped her work on his bands and sighed heavily. "I could have said no, Commander. That was my choice to let you have a day on the planet."  
  
"T'Pol, you couldn't have stopped Archer from goin' down there. He was hell bent on seein' it. There must be something you can do to let the High Command know it wasn't your fault," he said, softer this time.  
  
She blinked, licked her lips and sighed again. "Commander," she whispered, "it is none of your business."  
  
Trip's jaw fell open. How could she say that? She was part of this crew same as him, from Day One. He bent his head to try and look her in the eye. He placed a finger under her chin and lifted it up. She still avoided his gaze.  
  
"Lookit me," he said softly. T'Pol lifted her eyes to his. "You *are* my business, T'Pol." They stood there staring at one another for a moment. He could see that mask falter, her eyes speaking volumes. She was just as unhappy with her people as he was.  
  
T'Pol looked away and continued to loosen the knots around Trip's wrists. It was his turn to sigh. He wasn't sure what was bothering him more, the unjust, illogical way the Vulcans were dealing with this situation or the fact that T'Pol was leaving Enterprise.  
  
T'Pol let out a small, barely audible gasp of success as the bands around Trip's wrists loosened and fell away to the hard ground. He rubbed his wrists and quickly freed T'Pol's.  
  
"Amazin' how easy this is when y'ain't tied up, huh?" Trip asked lightly. She merely nodded and rubbed her own wrists. Trip slipped his arms around her, his hands feeling the cord around their waists for knots.  
  
"I think they're on my side," he told her. "Can you feel `em?"  
  
T'Pol slid her hands along his waist feeling for the knots. She located them at the small of his back. "They are directly in back. I will not be able to see what I am doing," she replied.  
  
"Well, just do the best you can. We ain't goin' anywhere for a while," Trip sighed. He felt another shudder rumble through her. He began to stroke her back absently. His large palms swept up and down her back, creating some heat she lacked. He leaned in closer, trying to transfer some of his own body heat to her.  
  
"Commander, what are you doing?" T'Pol asked, her face pressed into his shoulder. Her fingers kept slipping from the knots.  
  
"Rubbin' your back," Trip said. "I can feel you shiverin'."  
  
T'Pol said nothing, continuing her work on their ties.  
  
"I can stop if it bothers you," he said softly into her ear.  
  
"It does...not," she said quietly. Trip smiled to himself. If someone were to accuse him of enjoying this he would vehemently deny it. But no one else was here.  
  
"How's it goin' back there?" he asked, remembering that T'Pol was trying to untie them.  
  
"Not well," T'Pol sighed, as frustrated as she would allow him to see her. "My fingers are numb and keep slipping. I can no longer feel the knots."  
  
"Why didn't you say somethin' sooner?" Trip asked, grinning. He pulled back, reaching behind him. He grasped her wrists and brought them around in front of them. He placed her hands together palm to palm. He covered her hands with his and rubbed them vigorously.  
  
T'Pol looked up at him. Their eyes locked. Trip brought her hands to his lips and blew his warm breath over her fingers. He continued to rub them, trying to get some blood circulating again.  
  
Not taking his eyes from hers, he massaged heat into her fingers. He worked them slowly, his fingers dancing with her own.  
  
"Commander..." T'pol started.  
  
"Relax, T'Pol," Trip whispered, "I'm just tryin' to put some feelin' into you." He brought her hands to his mouth once again. As he blew another warm breath over her fingers, his lips brushed against her skin.  
  
The ripple that thundered up her spine had nothing to do with the cold this time. A nearly inaudible moan escaped her lips. She met Trip's gaze. He had a look of wonder on his face. He had felt that last shudder, both through her and with her.  
  
"I think I can feel my hands now, Commander," T'Pol muttered hoarsely. She gently wrestled her hands away from his. Trip regarded her with hooded eyes. He nodded and placed his hands around her waist again. T'Pol reached a tentative hand to his face, then snatched it back quickly. She dropped her gaze from his.  
  
T'Pol reached behind Trip and continued to tug at the stubborn knots. As she kept tugging and pulling, the binds loosened and fell away. She kept her arms around him.  
  
"We are free," she said quietly.  
  
"Good," Trip replied softly. He was stroking her back again.  
  
They stood there with their arms around each other, neither one making the attempt to untie their legs. T'Pol reasoned to herself it was because she was cold. Trip reasoned to himself it was because she needed his body heat.  
  
The Coridans that walked in moments later didn't care, if they even noticed, that their captives were transfixed with one another. The rebels found it much easier to tie them back up than it had been the first time. Instead of tying the human and Vulcan together, the Coridan rebels bound them separately. There was less chance of them breaking free.  
  
"Now what, Commander?" T'Pol asked, her head cocked to the side. She gave him a cool glance.  
  
"I think we were better off together," Trip replied grimly. She merely arched a brow at him.  
  
They both sat with their thoughts for a moment, silence filling the gap between them. Trip glanced over at T'Pol and could see her shivering again. But this time there was nothing he could do about it.  
  
FINIS  
  
References  
  
1. mailto:misanthropistx@yahoo.com 


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